


Disconnected

by grizzly_bear_bane



Series: David and Noah [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blind Character, Domestic, M/M, New Orleans, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:05:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grizzly_bear_bane/pseuds/grizzly_bear_bane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some time after Noah first moves in with David in New Orleans, the two have a bit of a rough patch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one might actually suck, but for the sake of continuity, here it is! As always, critiques are greatly appreciated. *cowers behind a desk*

****

It was on days like these that I hated my job.  The house’s air conditioner sounded and felt like it was going to die at any minute, the coffee on my desk had been stale for an hour now, and the heat coming from the fan on the computer was not helping me deal with the imminent death of my beloved A/C and the very hot, humid air of summertime Lakeview, New Orleans. 

Sure, working from home was wonderful; I got to relax, _usually_ work when I felt like it, be with my boyfriend all day… have lots and lots of naughty playtime with my boyfriend… Or rather, that was how it _used_ to be.

Not this week. 

This week, the air conditioner was at wits end on one of the hottest summer days I’d ever had here and no one was coming out to fix it until all the other old, decrepit air conditioners could be fixed in the city.  Not to mention, I was only a few small steps away from full-blown writer’s block, and the threat of kissing my contract with _The Times – Picayune_ goodbye because of it. 

And to top it off, I couldn’t even spend time with my adorable, little _chéri_ , because this week, he was high on painkillers, recovering from a broken arm and wrist, fast asleep in the bedroom all the way on the other side of the house. 

So here I was, staring blankly at my computer screen, typing, _‘I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know what I’m doing, I really don’t know what the hell I’m doing at all right now…’_ over and over again.

I hate my job.

“David,” Noah’s voice called out timidly, from the bedroom.  It was a refreshing distraction from the hum of the computer and constant sound of mindless typing.

“Yeah, babe,” I shouted back.

“Um, where are you,” he asked.

“I’m in my office… Why?  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answered quickly.  “I just… I was just wondering; that’s all.  Okay, well, have fun working!”

 _Huh?  What was that all about,_ I thought to myself, staring back at my computer screen, curiosity piqued.  “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Uh huh…” Noah’s voice sounded a bit distracted, as if he was up to his usual mischief.

 _What the hell is that kid up to now?_   Carefully, quietly, I rose from my chair and crept down the hall to see what he could be doing.  Upon turning the corner into the kitchen doorway, I found my answer, and had to cover my mouth to stop from laughing out loud and giving myself away.

Noah looked like a cat trying to walk on an electrical wire that could fry him at any minute, with his eyes squinted tightly shut, shoulders tense, as he quietly tiptoed into the kitchen from the living room entrance, feet never making a sound.

It was probably the cutest thing I’d ever seen! 

After living with me for the past four months now, and after all the things we’d done together since he moved here, Noah was still shy and nervous about me seeing him scantly clad around the house.  And assuming that he’d just been too lazy to put on pants – or just too damn hot – before sneaking out of his hiding place in the bedroom, he’d made sure I was too distracted with work to see him like this.

I didn’t know why though… I mean, sure, I’d made it perfectly clear on several occasions that the less Noah wore, the more irresistible he became to me, but I wasn’t _so_ bad that he had to sneak around like this…

Okay, I lied.

I’m far worse.

And yes, I knew that taking advantage of his blindness was cruel, but at times like these, Noah could only blame himself for my actions, looking that cute in his tight, little, _hideous_ , dull-orange t-shirt and tiny black briefs.  The Sharpie-covered cast on his left arm made him look even cuter, with his little fingers poking out and nails painted, by me, when he fell asleep on the couch yesterday.  I bet he still had no clue his nails were covered in enamel, and colored bright green.  Adorable.

As his shirt rode up a little in the back when he reached to get a bowl from a high shelf – revealing the pretty little dimples on the small of his back – I knew there was no backing away from my plan.

He knelt down to open the fridge, searching for something with his hands, mumbling quietly to himself, “Where the hell did I put those stupid grapes?”

 _‘They’re on the second shelf, all the way in the back, behind the sodas,’_ I provided a mental answer.

He stopped searching and feeling around for a second and turned his head in the direction of my office, eyes going straight past me, seeing nothing, a frown on his face.  This would be about the time he’d yell for me to come help him out.  However, we both knew that would not be happening right now.  With an adorable pout on his lips and a curse under his breath, he went back to work digging around in the vegetable bins.

I exhaled deeply, instantly regretting it.  At the noise, Noah froze and turned to face my direction again.  It was creepy sometimes, how, even though I knew it wasn’t the case, it seemed like his senses compensated for the lack of sight with an over abundance of other ways of seeing, of perceiving his surroundings.  I could tell from his tense and alert body language that he knew something was up, but couldn’t tell exactly what it was.  He opened his mouth slightly, as if he were about to call for me again to make sure I was still were I was supposed to be, but changed his mind and slowly continued searching.

I kinda felt sorry for him, seeing Noah struggle like that to find something right in front of his face, patiently moving items around, feeling this and that, and still coming up empty-handed.  Thankfully, after what seemed like ages of searching, he found the small carton of fruit.

I crept up silently behind him, wicked grin on my face, as he stood over the sink to wash off the grapes.  It was the perfect opportunity for me to properly admire his ass and perfect legs on the way over.  I grabbed his waist with a growl and watched him throw his precious grapes in the air in his shock, screaming.

For a split-second, he was truly terrified, not knowing whom his attacker was.  It took him a moment to realize who’d grabbed him. “D-D-David,” he asked, as his voice squeaked.  I nuzzled the nape of his neck, making him shiver. 

“Yes, cupcake,” I answered lowly, squeezing him tightly.

He began to relax with an irritable sigh, “Dammit, David, what’s wrong with you?  You scared me to death!  And where the hell did my grapes go?  I’ve been looking for them for like, thirty minutes!”

I picked one up off the countertop, and pressed it to his lips.  “ _These_ grapes?  And no, you were only looking for about fifteen minutes or so.”  Before he could start yelling at me again, I pushed the grape past his open, angry lips and then picked up another to feed him, once again tickling it across his soft mouth, feeling a little envious of the fruit.

Hesitantly, he accepted it.  “Thanks,” he muttered under his breath, “ _jerk_.”

Ignoring him, my fingertips stayed at his lips a bit longer.  I gave his shoulders a little massage.  “So I’m in my office all day, typing my fingers off to put food on the table for both of us, and here _you_ are, lazing about the house in your _underwear_ , sucking the cold air out of the fridge, when you should have been in my office keeping me company,” I playfully chided, running my hands over his hips.

He sighed again.  “I’m sorry, but I figured I’d just be in the way, again, like yesterday, so, I, ah… David?  What… What are you doing?” His breath hitched.

“Hmm… oh nothing, why?”

“Can you take your hands out of my underwear please?”

“Now why would I want to do that, cupcake?”  I slipped them down his legs quickly while he shyly scrambled for an answer.

“Be… Because, David, um, we’re in the kitchen?” 

Not good enough.  “But, babe, were we not in the kitchen this morning?  What’s wrong with it now,” I asked, slipping off that faded orange t-shirt, wishing I could throw it away, it was so bad.

He tried to squirm away so I pressed him up against the counter, teasing still.  “What’s wrong with being a little naughty in the kitchen?” My fingertips attacked his overly sensitized nipples, while I nipped his ear.

“David, I… I just…I just want my grapes, and… and perhaps to… take a nap, afterwards?” His shoulders began to relax, hands reaching out to pull me closer.

“Oh you can still have your grapes…” I nipped lightly at his shoulder, leaving little marks, hands taking on a mind of their own, “ _and_ your nap… later, though.  Now, I want to take a quick break away from work with you.”

“But, David… I… you’ll… oh god.  You just cleaned the… the kitchen from this morning, when we… ah!  No, stop… yes!  Right there, oh!  Wait, no, I… I…”

His mindless rambling was making me hot, with so much exposed skin for me to claim with my _free_ hand.  Noah was most beautiful in times like these, when my assaults would leave him breathless, boneless, and so alive. 

Noah was quickly reaching his peek.  “Now, cupcake, I don’t want to have to clean the counter again, so if you make a mess I _will_ punish you this time.”

“What!?  That’s… That’s not fair!  I never said that I… I… I… oh shit, David!”

_riiiiiinng, riiiiiinng, riiiiining!_

I almost jumped out of my skin at the noise as the phone rang so loud it shook the receiver off its mount.  I think the phone ringing startle me more than anyone, especially since Noah was busy off on a lovely trip somewhere close to heaven right now.  I let it ring long enough for him to be safely transported to the floor to catch his breath, before answering it, wondering, _who calls the landline anymore these days?_

My answer was wishing I hadn’t answered it at all, as an irritatingly haughty, feminine, old money, Southern voice instantly filled my ears like someone singing off key, “David?  Why, it’s about time you picked up the phone, dear.  I’ve been singing to the voicemail on your cell phone for the past ten minutes now.”

Okay, fine.  So I _did_ deserve to pay for praying on the defenseless and vision-impaired, but it didn’t have to be right now!  Especially not by _her_.

“Hello, mother.”  I should have dragged Noah back to my office, where the caller-ID was in plan sight, rather than going crazy here in the kitchen with the antique, ‘it-comes-with-the-house’ phone, with only five visible numbers and missing dial.

“Sugar, what on Earth have you been doing all this time, shouldn’t you be working,” she asked, trying to sound playfully condescending, like I was skipping school.

 _‘Oh, nothing, I was just happily jerking off my boyfriend – whom you hate – over the kitchen sink_ ,’ was what I _wanted_ to say, but instead, decided to take Noah’s constant advice to try to be civil with the woman.  “I was just taking a break with Noah in the kitchen for a while,” I stated.  I suppose just mentioning the his name would have to do for now.  It was only fair; it was completely idiotic and selfish to dislike him when she and father had never even met him.

“Oh… is that so?  _Hm_.”  She got quiet.

“Oh, he’s doing fine; I’m glad you asked,” I chimed, sarcastically. “His arm is healing pretty quickly, and the cast should be off in another week or so; let’s just hope he doesn’t have any more accidents before then.  I swear, even after being here so long, every low-lying piece of furniture still seems to have it out for poor Noah—”

Mother cleared her throat obnoxiously loud, cutting me off.  She was far too happy to change the subject. “You know that girl you dated for so long in high school – oh what was her name, Caroline? – Well, she’s back in town this week visiting her family, and she asked about you today.  I gave her your number; you two should talk.”

“Is that why you called?”  I should have known.

She tried to sound offended, “Well, of course not, dear.  That’s just silly.  Your father and I haven’t talked to you in almost a whole week, and I wanted to see how you were doing.” Her tone changed, “However, I will say, from a mother to her son, it would be nice if you _did_ talk to Caroline.  The two of you were so precious together, you need to spend some time with her again; you know, rekindle the old flame, start over new…”

“Mother, did you forget that Carrie came out a _long_ time before I did that she was gay?  Or of the fact that I’m most _definitely_ gay, too?  And we _never dated_ ; she was never my girlfriend.”

“David… let’s be honest with ourselves.  You know that girl was confused then.  Besides, I’m sure if you asked her, she’d be happy to be in a nice, loving relationship with you again.  I mean, we both know your… _infatuation_ with that… _boy_ is just a byproduct of going to a _liberal_ , art school for a college degree,” she thought that was amusing, “You’ll snap out of it just like Caroline will when she talks to you again.”

For a moment I was speechless.  As many smiles and laughs as I’d shared with this woman as a child, she was and always would be a demon.  “Mother, how many times do I have to tell you that Noah and I are—”

“No, _you_ are not!  Whatever lies and perversions that boy has put in your head, you should be listening to _me_ , not him.  I’m your mother, David, and I know what’s right for you!” She paused for a moment, calming down, before her voice turned hushed and sympathetic. “Besides, honey, he’s _blind_.  You don’t need to be wasting all your time taking care of a… a _cripple_ —”

I hung up the phone.  Well, actually I slammed the cracked handset violently back onto the receiver, jamming and breaking another piece belonging to the missing dial. I counted to ten.  “I swear that woman won’t even give me a chance to forget why I hate her so much; she just insists on reminding me every time she opens her mouth!” 

I was alone in the kitchen. “Noah?”

By now, Noah had not only recovered, but had redressed, put on jeans, and was sitting on the couch in the living room.  His face was buried in his hands as he hunched over his knees.  Perfect.  Screw what the scientists and doctors say; that kid had super-human hearing, and had more than likely made out every vile word my mother had said to me.

I quietly walked over.  “Noah?  Are you okay?”

He didn’t remove his hands or sit up, just nodded, “Uh huh,” he sniffled _._   His voice sounded like he’d been crying for a while now.

“Baby, look, no, listen… Forget about what she says, okay?  None of that matters.  What’s important is that I love you and I would never leave you for anyone else.  Especially not a _lesbian_ , I mean… _urgh_.”

“But… she’s right,” he answered softly, tears running down his face, “You do deserve someone else, even if not that girl, then at least someone who can take care of themselves… and won’t keep breaking your furniture.  Someone you won’t have to keep constantly putting off work to take them to the hospital every time they fall over a damn coffee table.  That wouldn’t even happen if… if I wasn’t… if I could…”

“Baby, stop.  My mother is an idiot, a heartless idiot.  I love _you_.  No one else.  That’s it.  I wouldn’t care if you only had one leg and three arms—”

Noah frowned, “Yes, you would.”

“Okay, true.  But, Noah,” I knelt in front of him, removing his hands, kissing away the tears on his face, “I love you, and neither one of us is going anywhere.  Well, hopefully away from my parents, _together_.  Noah, listen to me, forget what she said; I know what I want and you’re sitting right in front of me.  When you’re hurt, I want to be the one taking care of you, whatever you need and want, I want to be the person giving it to you; no one else.  You’re vital to me, Noah.  And I love everything about you.  To hell with what my mother thinks… Screw her!”

He wiped at his eyes, sniffling again.  “Ew.  I don’t want to touch her.”

I chuckled, cringing, “Yeah, that did sound gross, sorry.”  I sat beside him on the couch, wrapping my arms around him tightly.  We sat together for a long while in silence, each in our own thoughts. 

Finally I couldn’t take it any more.  “Well, this just sucks.”

Noah lifted his head from off my shoulder, looking tired.  “Huh?”

“I manage to get you all hot and bothered and of course mother had to call and ruin all our fun.”

Noah pepped up a little more. “Well, I had fun…” he blushed scarlet.

“Did you, now?” I quirked an eyebrow.  He ducked shyly behind my shoulder at the tone in my voice.  “Well I could have sworn, from the sounds you were making and how you kept telling me you didn’t want it, that you hadn’t had any fun at all.”

He didn’t say more, still hiding behind my shoulder, arms loosely wrapped around my waist.

“Well, in that case I’d like to finish where we left off.”  I stood up and happily started removing my clothes.

“David,” Noah asked warily, “what are you doing?”

“What do you think?” I tossed my shirt in his lap. 

He picked it up and knew exactly what I had in mind.  “But, what about your work?”

“What about it?”

“Well, it’s not done.”

“Neither are you.”

Before he could speak again or even think of running away, I grabbed him around his waist, and hauled him off to the bedroom, where there _was_ a nice, little caller-ID… right beside the bed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

It was hot, no,  _stifling_  hot, when I got up the next morning.  By the time I was done with my shower, I felt like I was melting internally.  Noah had kicked off all the sheets on the bed in his sleep, still beautifully naked and covered in a thin layer of sweat from the heat. 

It would have been enough of an invitation for me to crawl back in bed and wake him up properly…  _But it was too damned hot to even think of sex right now!_

Irritated and grumpy, I went to the kitchen to make breakfast.  It would have to be something simple and quick, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand in front of a hot stove for too long, or I would just die.

By the time I had the pancakes on the table, Noah had woken up and was happily joining me in the kitchen with a bright smile, wearing as little as he had yesterday, which made me even more grumpy; I still couldn’t touch him. 

“Morning, David.”

I pulled out his chair for him absentmindedly, giving him a peck on the cheek as he took the chair out of my hand in an awkward gesture. “Why are you so happy this morning?” I sat down across from him, contemplating just taking off my clothes completely to get more air, doubting he’d notice…

Noah poured a liberal amount of syrup all over the pancakes.  “Well, I had a very good night, last night.  And my arm is feeling a bit better too; I even managed to keep the cast completely dry in the shower this morning.” He looked quite accomplished with himself, happily picking up his fork and stuffing his face.

I stared at him for a minute, wondering if I was just running a high fever or something.  Maybe I was spontaneously combusting and just hadn’t noticed yet. “Aren’t you  _dying_ , though!?  It is  _so_  hot in here!  And you even have that bulky cast on?  Are you okay, Noah?  Do I need to take us to the hospital?"

He paused from cutting the pancake.  “Yes, I’m fine.  Are  _you_  okay?  You sound…  um… irritated.”

“Of course I’m irritated.  It’s like six hundred degrees in here, and I feel all icky and haven’t even done any work yet.  How are you managing this?”

Noah shrugged, before stating plainly, “I took a cold shower.”

“Oh.”  Well that made sense.

“I started out with hot water long enough to get clean, but then switched to just cold.  I’ll probably end up taking another one in a few hours to keep my temperature down… Wanna join me later?”

“Can we do it now, after breakfast?   I seriously think my brain is melting.” I wasn’t even thinking of sex,  _at all_.

I just wanted to stop dying.

* * *

The shower felt like nothing I had ever experienced before.  Even after stepping out of the cool bathroom and back into the heat, I still felt like I had a fighting chance now. 

I decided to leave the computer off today and sat with Noah in the living room to watch a movie, giving him the play-by-play of all that was happening, and after, just mindless reality shows to pass the time.  I watched Noah as he lounged beside me, head on my lap, eyes closed, just listening to the conversations going back and forth on the television.  I wondered what was going through his head right now, how he perceived the words and various sounds he heard.  I lay my head back and closed my eyes too, just to see how it felt.  I had to give up after five minutes, easily distracted and too curious to miss what was happening on the screen.  I honestly had no clue how Noah could stand it, but then again, how could he  _not_  if he’d never known anything else?

* * *

By noon, we had both fallen asleep, our bodies shutting down to escape the heat.  I almost refused to move from my spot on the couch, but to be honest, Noah’s body heat was making me even more uncomfortable than my own, and if I didn’t force myself to get up and make lunch, Noah wouldn’t eat, which would only make the pain medicine that much harder for him to keep down.   _Fine, fine, I’m getting up._

I thought about trying to call in a repairman again while in the kitchen, but when I reached in my pocket for my phone it started to ring.  Not wanting to wake Noah, I quickly answered it.

And once again wished that I hadn’t.  “Hello?”

“David?  Hi!  It’s me, Carrie.” 

“Carrie?  Wow… um, hi, back.  How’s life?”  An awkward silence followed.

She laughed for a good ten minutes.  “Oh come on, Dave, you don’t have to sound  _so_  unhappy to speak to me.”

“No, no, it’s just… So what are you up to these days?  I hear you’re back in town this week…”

“Yeah, and it’s  _killing_  me.  Trust me, if it was up to me, I’d still be in New York right now, but family calls, you know?  Speaking of which, I ran into your mother at the grocery store the other day… or rather, I saw her, said hi, tried to leave, but she basically chased me down to give me your number.  She’s… pretty determined to get those grandkids, huh?”

“Try stubbornly deranged.  You know, she still won’t believe me that I’m gay—”

“Or that I’m still a lesbian,” she cut in. 

“Or of the fact that I’m even in a relationship right now—”

“Not to mention the fact that I’m due in six months to give birth to the child that both me and my girlfriend, Beth, are going to raise,  _together_.”

We both paused, taking it all in and laughed at the irony in our situations; mother had forced her to call me in order to magically make us get married, but it only ended up giving us a chance to catch up and ‘rekindle’ our old friendship instead.

“God, David, I miss going over to your house in the evening and having your mother bribe me into marrying you… weren’t we like, seventeen then?”

“Heh, well I sure don’t.  I’m so happy to be gone from there.  So you live in New York now? What’s that like?”

“Incredible.  You must meet Elizabeth; she’s a doll.  David, you should totally come up and visit me sometime.”

“Eh… I dunno.  I can’t really travel by myself anymore…”

“Who said you were coming by yourself?  You can’t keep this mysterious Noah person hidden away from me forever; bring him with you.  And then I can tell Noah embarrassing stories about you, and you can tell embarrassing stories to Beth about me… it’ll be so much fun.”

“Noah doesn’t really like traveling that much… Why don’t you come visit us here before you leave… oh wait, no, don’t do that now, you’re hair will melt.  Our air conditioner is trashed right now.”

“Ouch, that sucks… so… Noah doesn’t like traveling?  Is he… reclusive?”

“He’s blind.  And a little afraid of the concept of airplanes, so…”

“Oh… well, whatever, that’s not an excuse.  There are tons of blind people in the city, and as long as he’s not on an airplane that crashes, he’ll be fine.”

“Carrie, I’m sure those people have lived there for years.  He’s from the middle-of-nowhere,  _something_ -Lonetree, Wyoming and grew up on a horse ranch.  It was bad enough just convincing him to move here.” I glanced over my shoulder.  The person in question was waking up now and trying to scratch underneath his cast.  “Hang on a sec, Carrie.  Noah, you okay?  You hungry?”

He sat up and continued his mission to find the itch.  “No,” he answered grumpily. “I’m hot and my wrist itches.  Who are you talking to?”

“My friend, Carrie from New York; she says hi.  Come here and let me see if I can help a little.” I switched back to my conversation with Carrie. “I wish you could see how cute he looks now; he just woke up and his cast is irritating him,” I cooed, completely unashamed at how I sounded.

“Aw… Wait, that’s not  _cute_ , I bet it sucks.  What’s the cast for?”

“Broken arm, fractured wrist.   _No_ , I didn’t do that; it was an accident.  He tripped over that cursed coffee table I bought like, ten years ago from that gypsy lady; remember it?  It’s evil now and hell-bent on killing my boyfriend.”

Noah gave a noncommittal grunt and finally got off the couch.  “Please stop embarrassing me,” he held out his arm as I got a long, dull butter knife from the silverware drawer.

I put the phone down to free my hands, making sure I wouldn’t hurt him with the knife.  He gasped when the cool metal touched his skin, and couldn’t be more relieved when I found the spot and got it quiet again.  “Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’ll be off in no time.  You hungry?  Does your arm hurt any?”

“A little,” he muttered for both questions.

I shooed him back into the living room with a glass of water and half of a painkiller, promising him lunch.

I talked with Carrie for what seemed like hours, peeking around the corner to the living room to check on Noah every now and then, while fixing simple sandwiches, and Carrie constantly mocking me for treating him like a baby.

As I was about to call him back into the kitchen to eat, I glanced over and saw him bent down on the floor, with his hand patting the wood, looking for something.  I put Carrie on hold again.  “Noah?”

“Hey, David, where’d you put the remote for the TV?”

“I dunno, it might have fallen behind the couch earlier.  I’ll look for it in a bit.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”  He paused, confused.  “What’s this?”

“Hmm?”

"David, is there some kind of… moss growing under the couch?  What is this?"

"What?” I looked back at him again, still exploring under the couch.

I then dropped the phone in shear horror. 

Underneath Noah’s gently patting hand was the biggest, hairiest wolf spider I had ever seen.

I screamed like a little girl in a horror movie.  “Holy shit, Noah, don't touch that!!" I ran as fast as I could; praying to the beast,  _oh please, oh please don’t kill my boyfriend!!!_

I pushed Noah out of the way.  The spider  _hissed_  at me and started crawling in my direction.  I lifted up the leg of the coffee table and dropped it as the monster ran straight under it, which effectively crushed it and got spider guts all over the floor.   _Yuck!_

There was no time to freak out or get sick.  I grabbed Noah off the floor and dragged him to the kitchen sink to scrub his hand clean, mumbling to myself, “I have to get the house sprayed for bugs.  It’s not safe for us, with all these disgusting creatures running around.  That thing could have killed you, Noah!”

“I’ve touched a spider before… and a hornet by accident… it didn’t feel like that one, though.”

I looked at him perplexed.   _Damn, those painkillers work fast_.  Normally even the mention of something like that being around the house would have had us both ready to move away from here—far, far away from here. 

“Are all spiders in Louisiana so hairy, David?” 

I shivered and cringed. “I really hope not.”

“Um, David?”

“What?” I panicked. “Oh my god, did it bite you?  Are you feeling light-headed?  Is your hand getting numb?  Should I call for an ambulance?”

“No, but, David… I only have one good hand right now, can you please not scrub it off?”

“Oh!  Sorry.” I kissed his hand, wondering where I’d dropped the phone.  Hopefully it hadn’t been smashed into a million pieces in my haste to be a hero.  Or a martyr, considering how big that spider was…

“David, when will you stop worrying over me so much?”

I thought he was teasing, so I teased back.  “When you stop losing fights with the furniture and molesting potentially dangerous, poisonous spiders!”

“I was not,” he pouted like a five-year-old.  “I wonder what happened to it.  Did you see where it went?”

“You don’t want to know,” I quickly cautioned. “Trust me.”

I glanced around Noah to look back into the living room, and to the crime scene in the middle of the floor.  How the hell was I supposed to clean up spider guts?  At least the floor wasn’t covered in carpet; if  _that_  were the case, I would just have to sell the house and move.

The phone was nearby, safely dangling on the edge of the counter. 

“Hello?  Carrie, you still there?”  No answer.  I sent her a text explaining the sudden uproar, then made the phone call to the repairman.  Luckily, with the number of repairs requested today, more people were working on them, which meant relief was a lot closer than I’d hoped for.

Ignoring the crime scene cleanup for now, Noah and I finally settled down for lunch.  It was quiet and peaceful as we sat at the table.  Every now and then a car would drive by outside or a dog would bark.   _I wonder if Noah likes pets_ , I thought, smiling to myself at the image of Noah playing with a puppy or kitten.  We need to get a pet one day, that would be nice.  I mulled over which type of dog or cat would suit us both, but came up empty-handed, always finding a flaw in one or the other; this one would be too energetic and give Noah a hard time, this would be too quiet and would get lost easily, what if that type of dog like to bite?  I kept this up until finally my brain couldn’t take it anymore.  The only reason I would spend this much time of something like this meant I had to be close a heat stroke. “You okay, Noah?  You’re awfully quiet.”

He simply nodded, yes, and continued to eat.

Halfway through, the mailman knocked on the door.  “Heads up, babe, you got a letter,” I called on my way back to the kitchen.  “Looks like it’s from your folks.”

Noah excitedly opened the letter, a bright smile on his face as he started reading the Braille on the page.  But too soon, his face fell.  He dropped the letter on the table and simply sat there, trying to keep his composure.

“Noah?  What’s wrong?”

His lip trembled.  “My sister got married last month.”

My heart sank for him; to not be invited or even told in advance about his sister’s wedding was too cruel.  I knew his relationship with his family was a bit odd, but I’d never known them to do something like this.   _My_  family, yes, but his family… It didn’t make any sense.  I pulled my chair over to his.  “I’m sure they had a good reason for… Well, maybe the… What did the letter say?” I rubbed his back, hoping that it would help.

He shrugged away in a crestfallen manner.  “It said that everyone was doing fine, and not to be upset; that I wanted to be here, so I would have to make sacrifices for now.  The ranch is doing great, the weather’s nice, and that Julie’s new husband and family are good people.  They’re all supposed to be going to California for a horse show together in two weeks… they’ve always wanted to go, but with me there, they couldn’t find anyone to stay with me while they went, so… I’m sure they’ll have a lot of fun together.  Oh, and everyone says hi,” he added in a quiet voice, folding up the letter into a little square.

I took it and put into my pocket.  “Noah, finish your food.”

“Not hungry anymore.”

“Want to give them a call?”

“No, David.  I think I’ll go take a nap for a bit.  Excuse me.”

I watched his retreating back as he went to the bedroom, narrowly missing the guts on the floor on the way.  I seriously needed to do something to cheer him up; it seemed as if everyone was out to get him these days, and I needed to make sure that he knew he was appreciated, at least by me.

And when the doorbell rang an hour later as the repairman finally showed up, I knew I had a good chance of doing something spectacular, now that we both wouldn’t be frying any longer.

My own mischievous mind piqued, I started making my plans for the perfect evening, and, hopefully, the perfect night.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

I almost skipped to the bedroom that evening after I’d finished making dinner.  The air conditioner was fixed, the table and candles set, and an abundance of delicious,  _successfully_  made, Italian dishes – which had taken all afternoon to fix properly – now lay out for our enjoyment.

I knocked lightly on the door at first before entering.  Noah was lying on his stomach, still fully clothed, with his head hanging halfway off the bed, looking as if he’d lost his last friend.  As I came closer, I saw that his eyes were open, making him look as if he were staring at the floor.

I had to mentally check about six times to make sure I saw his back rise and fall correctly, praying that he wasn’t as dead as he looked.  “Noah, sweetie?”

“Hm?”  He didn’t move.

“Um, dinner’s ready.”

“I’m not hungry.  I’m just going to go to bed, if you don’t mind,” he muttered, ever the polite one.

“Actually, I do.  I have a surprise for you, so…”

He lifted his head.  “Is the house on fire?  I smell smoke.”

“No, of course not; that’s just the…”   _Hm_.  That was an interesting point that I hadn’t considered at all; how do you create a romantic,  _candlelit_  dinner for someone who will only smell the smoke?

 Noah sighed tiredly.  “David, I’m not happy…”

“Well, cupcake, if you get up and come to the kitchen, I’m sure I can fix that.”

After a moments hesitation he finally got up and followed me to the table.  Nervously I lifted the tops off of the dishes, and fixed his plate.  “Well, what do you think?  Surprise…?”

Noah’s brow creased slightly as he assessed what he smelt.  “Is that garlic?”

My spirit wavered a little, optimistic.  “It’s the bread.  And there’s also white wine, candles, and—”

“Your lasagna recipe?”

“And the chicken parmigiana you like.  I managed to get the recipe from that restaurant we went to last month, so…”

“But you hate spending so much time making dinner… David, did you… You didn’t do this for me.”

“I did it  _all_  for you.” I touched his face and kissed him passionately for a moment before sitting down across from him, trying to hold in a snicker at the startled expression on his face.

Tears brimmed Noah’s eyes as he faced me, disbelieving.  “Why,” he whispered.

I had to think first before answering, making sure I was able to fully express all that needed to be said, but still came up short.  “Because I know the last couple of months have been hard for you, moving here and getting adjusted, and I especially know how even more difficult the last few weeks have been, and I wanted to do something special for you to remind you of how happy I am to have you here, that I love you, and that no matter what, I’m here for you, and that I appreciate you.”  I knew there was more to it, but couldn’t figure out how to continue.

Tears ran quietly down his lowered face, his mouth turned in a sad frown, struggling with something internally.  “But I’m…” his words ceased.  He wiped roughly at his eyes and composed himself, before whispering a soft thank you, and began to eat.

I didn’t want to pry; even though no one should look that sad, but I knew my words had struck the right cord and that, at least was making him feel a little bit better.  Whatever it was, if he wasn’t willing to talk about it now, then I wouldn’t ruin dinner trying to pry it out, either.

Dinner was quiet as we ate, but not at all uncomfortable, both the food and wine put a small smile on our lips.  I couldn’t help but admire Noah in this light; his green and brown-specked eyes looked almost black in the candlelight, while his sandy, shaggy hair reflected the golden light. 

I was entertaining the idea of installing dimmed lights of this muted intensity in our bedroom – and their benefits for future occasions – when Noah’s wine glass hit the floor with a loud smash. 

It happened as if in slow-motion as Noah reached for his glass and accidentally knocked it over, which wouldn’t have been a problem if I hadn’t been so distracted to catch it before it rolled off the table and smashed into a million pieces on the floor.

What was  _most_  surprising, however, was Noah’s reaction to the accident.  What would have normally resulted in apologies and tears, was nonexistent right now.

Instead, when the glass shattered, so did Noah’s composure.

“Goddamn it, not again!  Damn it!!  Why can’t I ever do anything right!” He got up from the table, as pissed off as I’d ever seen him, to clean the mess.

“Wait, no!  Noah, watch where you step!” I couldn’t get up quickly enough to stop him from stepping in the shards.

I could only cringe.  His scream was agonizing to hear as the glass crushed under his heel and went through his foot.  All hell broke loose; I didn’t think the night could get any worse.  For a moment I couldn’t move, didn’t know what to do, everything was falling apart.

Noah tried to hold it in, but it was clear he was tearing at the seams, his skin pale, as he sat on the wine-spilt tile floor, tentatively feeling the glass in his foot to assess the damage.  Which, from my frozen angle – seeing his precious foot covered in blood – looked pretty extensive.

I tried to avoid looking at the blood, tried to not pass out, tried to calm down.  “Noah… are you… Just relax, I’m… I’m going to fix this… okay?  Everything’s going to… be fine.”

“No, David,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

“What?  But, Noah, you’re—”

“I said no!  David… for  _once_ , will you let me take care of my own mess!?  I can’t take this anymore; I’m not like this… Damn it, I am not helpless!” He violently yanked out a small shard. “And… I’m not a child,” he sighed in a dejected manner, as if he were losing faith in the words he’d just spoken.

Blood continued leaking out from the gashes, as Noah sat on the floor, shaking, breath going shallow from the blood and pain.  I had to think fast.  “Okay, Noah… okay… just let me  _help_  you.  Whatever you need, just tell me, and I’ll get it for you… but, we need to get this taken care of together, okay?”

Reluctantly, he nodded and slowly continued to pull out glass wherever he found it.  Quietly I pulled out the first-aid box from off the top of the fridge, handing Noah a good pair of tweezers and sat beside him, wet cloth in hand to soak up some of the blood.

Noah’s hands balled into fist as he silently wept, barely noticing my ministrations.  “But, David… that’s not the point… I’m… I’m useless.”

“Baby, that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is… You know it is, David.  I can’t win.  I can’t walk two steps without hurting myself, I’m always breaking  _everything_ , and every time something happens, you’re there, always cleaning up, always taking care of my mess, watching my every move!”

“But that’s okay, I like taking care of you… you’ve just gotten a little careless lately, that’s all, once you get back in the groove of things…”

“Damn it, David, that’s not ever going to happen if you keep babying me so much!  I’ll just keep getting careless, because you do everything for me; there’s no need for me to try anymore!”

“Oh come on, Noah, don’t you think I know that?  You were alone and doing just fine when I met you in college; I know you can take care of yourself, but… I can’t help it…  I hate seeing you hurt, and maybe you’ve broken bones before, but not on my watch, and it scares me.”

“But I’m not fragile… yet everyone is always treating me like I am.” He single-handedly pulled out a particularly large piece of glass with no more than a wince, distracted by the conversation and a mix of daily pain medications.  “ _Yes_ , I’m blind and I know my disabilities, and yes, I’ve been hurt before, but I also know my own limits and…” Noah pulled out another piece, as I rushed to get the wounds cleaned, trying to keep up my own nerve in the midst of all this blood, “I just feel like… I mean, I appreciate you taking care of me, but I need to do some things by myself sometimes, you know?”  He sighed, “Nevermind… Gosh, I can’t win with the furniture, how the hell am I supposed to win with anything else?  Our parents were right you know, I  _am_  in everyone’s way… including yours.” He dropped the last piece of glass on the floor, the shard cutting through his attempted jest.  The small clatter it made as it hit the tile seemed to punctuate his thoughts, ending the conversation.

The more blood that got washed away the less serious the cuts looked.  And as I continued to clean, I knew he was right, I  _was_  a bit over-zealous sometimes in my taking care of him, but I was too afraid to back off just yet; maybe after he got used to being here more, I’d loosen the leash a little…   _At least I’m not as severely overprotective as his family,_  I joked to myself, _who’d practically raised him in football padding and a helmet, locked away in a panic room, if only they could_ …

We finished cleaning up together in a painful silence, Noah doing most of the recovery, while I followed behind taking care any missed spots.  I wasn’t sure what to say to fix the situation with him.  It broke my heart to see him so unhappy and clearly disappointed with himself.

Limping back from the sink, Noah heavily slumped into one of the chairs, bandages and a dry towel in hand, as I blew out all the candles and turned the ceiling light back on to better see where he needed me to put stitches. 

He swallowed the pain pill I gave him with a glass of water.  “David, I’m so sorry for ruining dinner, and for yelling at you.  I  _do_  appreciate all you’ve done for me.  And I’m sorry for being a brat,” he mumble, head bowed, hands cupped in his lap, quiet and reserved as always as I patched up his foot.

I sat back on my haunches as I finished wrapping up the cuts with a heavy sigh, “Noah, you didn’t ruin anything, babe.  And you’re not a brat either, well, at least not right now,” I tried to tease, but it didn’t reach him.  “Listen, you’ve been having a rough time and you’re still adjusting, that’s all.” I got up momentarily to put away the kit before sitting back on the floor, carefully placing the victimized foot on my lap, and placed little kisses on his knees.  “You’re adjusting, I’m adjusting… even our crazy families are adjusting… or not, depending on which family you ask, but… It’ll be okay.  Just give it some time, alright?”

At his quite nod I gave his knee a little playful nip.  “And you’re wrong, Noah; you are  _not_  in anybody’s way, everyone’s in  _your_  way, and once you fully get used to your new life here things will change, but now, everyone’s just being selfish, and I know it’s not fair, but we’ll deal with it.  Just forget about all this stuff, okay?”

He nodded in solemn agreement, “I know, but, it just hurts, you know?  I mean, I understand that you’re parents don’t like me, but… my  _own_  family?  My sister is my best friend, why did this happen?  And the fact that my family says I  _deserved_  it for being here?  I… I dunno, I guess they were just waiting to get rid of me and get on with their lives by dumping me on you to take responsibility for,” his laugh was completely void of humor. “But dammit, I never asked for anyone to take care of me, I never asked for  _this_ ,” he waved a hand at his eyes, “It’s not my fault…”

“No one’s saying it’s your fault, babe.  Maybe… maybe they wanted for you to come, but you’re so far away now, maybe they wanted to spare you the scary plane trip, or… having to go all the way back with a broken arm?  Who knows; sometimes people do stupid things to the people they care about for no reason at all.  Maybe, they were just upset because they miss you, and they’re just blaming it on you being away from them, for the first time since college, for Christ’s sake.  Besides… knowing your sister, I’m sure she’ll just invite you to her  _next_  wedding, or at least the four next ones after those two fail miserably, right?”

At first, Noah tried to look offended, but soon surrendered to his sense of humor, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.  She’d kill you if she ever found out you said that, right after signing the divorce papers.” He quirked a little smile.

“Funny.  Well, I’m thoroughly exhausted, why don’t we continue this lovely chat in the bedroom, huh?” I finally got up off the floor for good – with surprisingly sore knees;  _I really needed to renew my gym membership_ – and helped Noah to his feet.  At his slight wince and grimace, I couldn’t help but ask him, “Mind if I carry you, cupcake?  It’s a long why to the bedroom,”  _not really_ , “and I wouldn’t want for you to break any of those stitches.”  Lucky for me, only I could see my grin, however, I’m sure he caught my tone easily enough.

His expression turned indignant at the offer.  He tried to argue that he could manage, but after three steps, he caved.  “Fine.  But just this once, and only because of my…  _stitches_?” His eyebrows rose curiously, as if he’d missed something important.

“What, the stitches?  They’re adhesive, babe.  I don’t do needles,” I cringed.

 “Ah…” he wrinkled his nose, “I’ve never had those before.” He tried to wiggle his toes under the wrapping to see what the stitches would feel like. “I just figured the pills made what I thought was regular stitching just feel… odd,” he shrugged.

“You thought I had actually  _sewed up_  your foot?   _Me_?  Maybe next time, I should just leave the wine in the pantry until you’re off the medication,” I mumbled, hooking my arms under his legs and waist to carry him to the bedroom.  I definitely needed to renew that membership if I was struggling under his miniscule weight.

I put him down as gently as I could on his side of the bed.  He swung his legs over the side to sit next to me on the edge, face thoughtful as he tried to scratch under his cast again.

 _So_ , I thought to myself as I watched him,  _even if dinner was a small disaster, at least I won’t have to cook again tomorrow, thanks to leftovers.  And that article still needed to be finished yesterday, but ‘extension’_ is _my middle name after all… Why does Noah always have to look so adorable when he’s struggling?  Shouldn’t it be weird that I’m slightly turned on right now?_

“Stop staring at me, you’re making me uncomfortable,” Noah’s deadpan voice cut through my train of thought so suddenly.  His face was turned towards me as if I had been thinking out loud.

Completely caught off guard, I responded mechanically, “How the hell did you even know I was looking at you?  That’s  _creepy_!” 

Oops.

His mouth tightened into a thin angry line.  “Are you serious?  I  _felt_  you staring at me; you’re sitting right beside me, not speaking, and  _breathing on my shoulder_ , what the hell else could you have been doing?  Sorry if my ability to sense shit like that – just as anyone else can – bothers you so much.”  He crossed his arms and turned away from me.

“Hang on a second, I didn’t mean it like that.”  _Oh really,_  I thought,  _how exactly did you mean it then?_   “You just… it… I’m sorry.  I’m a jerk.”  I wrapped my arms around his turned shoulders.

“No, you’re not a jerk.  You’re just a son-of-a-bitch that thinks out loud too much, that’s all.”  Ever the honest and up-front one.

But in truth, he was right.  On any other day, I wouldn’t have said something like that.  Well, at least if I did, it would have been in a tone of awe and innocent amazement at the fact that Noah really wasn’t all that different from anyone else and had the same senses as anyone else had, instead of sounding like that revelation was disgusting or something awful as I’d just did.  However, like always, thanks to an always engaging, phone call full of wisdom and progressive thinking from  _Mrs._   _Charlotte Josephine Sinclair-Delacroix_  from her gated manor on Bigotry Hill, I had so easily fallen back into the crude system of my family, and of course had not given myself the time during the day to reset my thoughts.  How could I?  It had been hot and hectic all damn long.

Noah’s petite frame stayed tense, he stayed silent.  Bottling in his emotions again, he stopped being angry.  “David, can I ask you a question?  And think about it first before answering; I want you to tell me the truth.” He turned back to me but kept his head bowed, mouth still hard-lined.

I gulped audibly, wondering where this was going and if this vague question was going to get me into even more trouble.  “Okay… Yes?”

“David, do you think things would be much different between us, and our lives in general, if I wasn’t blind?”

“Of course not,” I answered too quickly, “I’d love you just the same, which is totally.”

“No…  _No_.” He shook his head, stating, “If I wasn’t, you’d be more  _in love_  with me, rather than just love me.  You would have the freedom to do whatever you’d like with your time, as would I, and you’d never have to worry about being so careful around someone not ‘handicapped.’  Right?  Even our relationships with our friends and families would be different.  Not to mention, you’d have that perfect person you’ve always dreamed of, right?”

“You… That’s crazy!  Where the hell is this even coming from?  Noah I love you; I’m madly, completely in love with you, and will be… Forever!  How many times do I have to say that to you?  Do you think I’d be with you now, or ever, if I didn’t feel that way?”

“Yes… It happened the first time we met, remember? You were too drunk to realize I was blind, and I was too drunk to tell you.  It was almost a month after you’d found out, that you actually wanted to speak to me again without being embarrassed.” His voice was starting to shake a little. “Does my  _ass_  still compensate for my ‘creepy eyes,’ or was that just a  _joke_  like everything else you’ve said?”

For a long time, I was speechless, barely remembering having ever said those words to him at all, and chastising myself for ever thinking that way about Noah.  “No, it wasn’t a joke,” I answered honestly. “I was an immature and selfish snob, disguised as a ‘bohemian artist,’ who hit on you because you were ridiculously hot and just as horny as I am when drunk… However, I would like to think I’ve made  _some_  progress since then, but apparently not.”

“David, you—” he shook his head.

“No, let me finish.  Noah, I am a twenty-seven year old man, with a job, and a nice small house miles and miles away from my vile parents, who’s in love with a twenty-three year old college grad, full-of-potential, beautiful creature.  At one point in my life, yes, I was a complete jerk all the time to everyone whom my family deemed as an untouchable, which meant basically everyone not from our ‘court circle.’  But with age, I’ve matured.  Lucky for me, I met you, a scrawny, blind, freshmen kid who was more of an adult than I was about a few months away from my graduation, that helped me grow into the person I am now.  And no matter what you think or say, it changes nothing, because I do love you, I love you from head to toe, ear to ear, and yes, if being able to see makes life easier for you then great, but blind or not, I love you.  Period.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t respond.  Not because what he’d said upset me, but because what I had said to him was killing me, and I needed to separate myself from the huge crime I’d just unconsciously committed. 

I got up quickly from the bed, but Noah grabbed my arm, confusing my need to leave with something far less important now.

“Wait, David.  I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, and it was stupid of me to say those things.  I’m a hypocrite if I expect you to never say hurtful things, and then do the same two minutes later.  I let my insecurity get out of control and I attacked you, and that wasn’t fair.  I love you, David, and I’m sorry for asking such stupid questions like that.”

“No worries,” I kissed his forehead absently, pulling away from his hand, “I love you too, dollface.  Now get some rest, I’m going to go clean up in the kitchen.”

“Do you need help?”

“With your foot all cut up like this?  No, I’m fine.”  I headed towards the door.

“Okay, well, I’m going to try to make it to the bathroom for a quick shower.”

I stopped, concern momentarily outweighing my need to get away.  “Are you sure you can make it that far on one foot?  Do you need help,” I asked, walking a little back into the room.

“Um, I can crawl if I need to,” he teased.  “Why not save the dishes for tomorrow and join me?  It’ll be fun?  I can make it up to you for being such a brat today?  You can even pretend you’re only in there to help me if it makes you feel any better.”

“No, no.  I should get them done.  Wouldn’t want to attract any bugs to dirty dishes, especially with the creatures already lurking around like this afternoon’s beast; that’ll just cause us more problems tomorrow.” I watched him silently as he carefully stood, placing his weight on his uninjured foot and slowly limped towards the bathroom.  It was tempting; I could just ignore my conscious for now and have some fun with Noah… No. “You want me to get you anything?” I didn’t deserve that pleasure now; it would only make me feel worse.  “Want me to get your clothes out for you?”

“Clothes,” Noah asked from the open doorway to the unlit bathroom.  He always kept it open and the lights usually off as he didn’t need them, sitting on the edge of the tub where I could still see him from the light shining in from the bedroom.  He started taking off his shirt.  “Well, sure, if you want, but… I haven’t really worn clothes to bed in so long… especially not while sharing a bed with  _you_  of all people,” he teased.

The temptation rose again, as he stood up to turn on the shower, completely naked now.  I had to refuse.  “Well, babe, I figure, what with the A/C fixed, it’ll probably get pretty cold tonight, and you’re tired, I’m tired… I think we should just go to sleep tonight.  Wouldn’t want to risk doing anything with your injury.”  _Regardless of the fact that you’ve been bedding him almost every day and night with the cast on his injured arm?_   Calling myself out, I knew the A/C would level out from the thermostat on it, and I also knew that neither of us was that tired, but I needed to cover up that beautiful skin, or else I’d make a mistake tonight…

Without another word I turned and left the room, closing the bedroom door on my way out to the kitchen.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sobs burly man tears*

 

I stood in front of the sink, holding a soapy dish in my hands as the water from the faucet ran, for what seemed like hours, thinking,  _What the hell did I just do?_   I had lied to my boyfriend, my beau, my little  _cupcake_ , about the one thing that under no circumstances should I have been dishonest about. 

The truth?  I did  _not_  want Noah to be blind,  _ever_.  And after all this time together, it still made a part of me uncomfortable, uneasy, overprotective,  _embarrassed_  by it… If someone had told my shallow ass five years ago that I’d fall in love with the hottest guy on Earth, I would have agreed.  If someone had said that that person would be blind and dangerously clumsy, I would have laughed myself to death at the thought of being with someone so…  _imperfect_.  Especially if that meant I’d be with someone that couldn’t even see my handsome face everyday…

Yet here I was, holding on to a soapy dish, stalling to stay away from the guilt polluting the air in the bedroom that was sure to be waiting for me when I returned for bed.  And there was Noah, probably struggling to take a shower by himself, but still too stubborn to complain or accept any more help, with an injured arm  _and_  foot, probably giddy with pride at my words, with the joy of being with someone who was willing to give him space and freedom, and accepted him for everything…

But it wasn’t like I wasn’t  _trying_.  It had been that same shallowness and awful behavior that had driven me away from my snobby family in the first place, to avoid it from leeching onto me; by now, I had matured to a level of complete acceptance of all things.  I  _loved_  Noah’s pretty green and brown-specked eyes; it didn’t matter if he could see or not, as long as he loved me…

 _So why the hell are you still standing here holding a dish!?_   In any other situation ‘helping Noah shower’ would have out-weighed doing the dishes by a shear landslide. 

But I was in trouble with myself now, because I had forced myself not to think too much about Noah’s impairment in the past, and had gotten pretty good at overlooking it, but every time my mind went back home, back to my family’s habits, every time Noah got hurt – be it serious or not – it always caught me off my guard, and I didn’t take the time to fix it.  And now, when Noah needed my honesty the most, he’d called me out on everything, and I’d lied to protect myself, to keep him happy, instead of getting all this crap off my chest and out of our lives for good.

Not matter how mature and open I  _thought_  I was at twenty-seven, I had still let my mother win, made both the Sinclair’s and the Delacroix’s both very happy with my negative thoughts and behavior towards the one person who never deserved that.

I needed to take care of this now, needed to come clean to Noah so that I could get past my shallowness and insecurity.  I finished the dishes in earnest and went back to the bedroom, planning out the conversation –  _argument_  – in my head on the way.

Yet, as soon as I opened the bedroom door and heard Noah singing quietly to himself in the shower, felt the steam from the hot water circulate through the air, I lost my nerve completely.   _Are you caving that easily?  What’s your plan now, you wimpy coward?_

Now?  I simply hung my head as I went to the drawer to retrieve a pair of boxers and a shirt for Noah.  After placing them on the sink where he could easily find them, I got myself ready for bed quickly, turning off the lights and hiding under the covers to feign sleep.  I know, I know…  _pathetic._

Five minutes later Noah turned off the water and stepped out to dry off.  I resisted turning around to look his way, still trying to pretend to sleep.  After a while of blow-drying his hair and getting redressed, he came to bed, still singing softly.

“David?”

“Hmm,” I answered as sleepily as I could. 

“You’re asleep  _already_?  Okay, sorry, go back to sleep,” he whispered, turning over and idly mumbling to himself, “Damn, that was hard to shower with one hand and trying to keep the other one  _and_  my foot dry.  Fun, yes, but difficult.  I should try just taking a bath tomorrow.”  He got under the covers to snuggle in close behind me, spooning my back and leaning over my shoulder to find my ear.  After pulling back the sheets over my head, he kissed my ear, whispering another good night and more love.

But in my head, all I could hear were my own thoughts shouting at me to stop being such a coward and to turn around and face my problems.

 _Tomorrow_.

* * *

_Something was off…_

…I was drifting in and out of sleep, restless, confused about what had happened this evening.  I tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable and found no relief.  My eyes opened and I was lying in bed. 

The lamp on the nightstand was lit and casting odd shadows about the room.  I wondered for a moment when had it been turned on, as we only ever slept in the dark.

“David?  What’s wrong, having a bad dream,” Noah asked from behind me.

I turned over on my other side to answer him, but caught myself, taken aback a little.  He was sitting up, holding one of my books and looking down at me, his eyes seemed eerily focused on my face.  Something seemed off in the way he was looking at me.  Wait a minute…

“Noah?” I sat up.

“Yeah, babe?  Are you okay,” he asked, raising an eyebrow, eyes following my movement as he continued to stare at me skeptically.  “Why the funny expression?  Do I have something on my nose or something,” he teased, wrinkling his nose.

My heart stopped as I realized I  _did_  have a funny expression on my face, and that he was  _looking_  at me.  “Noah… am I dreaming?” Surprisingly, only part of me hoped that I wasn’t.

He smiled his precious little smile, raising a hand to my hair and raked out the sleep-ruffled strands.  “I don’t know, what do you think?”

“Well… you’re looking at me…”

“Want me to stop?”

My mouth opened to answer no, but it wouldn’t come out.  I could only stare back into those gorgeous eyes that confused me so and had never given me so much attention before.  I was happy, yes, but there was still that part of me that could not accept this.

“This is what you  _wanted_ , right?  You  _need_  me to see you… you said so yourself.”

“Yes, but… I didn’t mean it like… I mean, I… I don’t know, Noah.” I lowered my head, completely confused now.

He lifted it back up.  “David, tell me what you really want,” he whispered.

“I want you to see me, I want you to see everything… to be safe, and okay with… well, me, I guess… I don’t know what I want.”

Noah planted a kiss on my cheeks, lips, forehead.  “David, look at me.  I have always been able to see you, just not in the conventional way that you, and the rest of our little world, would like or even try to appreciate… I know I may never be able to really look at you, and know how handsome you are, but that’s not what’s important to you, to us… and I know that you know that already.  I can  _see_  what’s inside of you, your heart, I can feel your love, your touch, hear your voice, so many things I can do to see you, and I see beauty and strength and so many other things in you that you don’t see in yourself…”

The edges on my vision began to blur as Noah whispered against my lips, “Talk to me, open your eyes, and you’ll see that everything is as it should be…”

 

I opened my eyes and found myself in bed again, laying on my side in the dark; there was no light on this time.

I turned over so I could face Noah, wondering…

His skin glowed in the moonlight shining though the window as he sat up in the dark, pillows propped up behind his back, one of his old books resting on his lap, as he read the Braille on the page with his right hand. 

“Having a bad dream,” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, well, not exactly…” I changed the subject, “What are you still doing up?”

“Couldn’t get to sleep.  Figured I could finish this chapter.”

“What’re you reading?”

“ _Leaves of Grass_.  I’m almost done with the second revised copy.  Soon I’ll be tackling the third, and fourth, and…”

“Whitman, right?”

“Uh huh.”  He turned the page.

I had a momentary image of the Noah from my dream flash across my mind.  I blinked it away so I could focus on the real thing, watched him while his fingers traveled over the tiny bumps on the book’s pages never missing a dot.  I always found it enjoyable to sit with him sometimes and watch his fingers move as he read aloud to me, trying to pick up patterns in the dots, always giving up with a headache.

His leg shifted under the covers to lightly graze mine as he continued to read.  It was one of his subtle ways of telling me that he didn’t  _really_  want to be reading and was solely interested in other things now that I was awake.  He sighed heavily, getting restless when I didn’t seem to outwardly notice his hint.  It was cute, and tempting as everything else he usually did.  It made me feel guilty for pushing him away so much earlier.

I studied him for a while, knowing he knew I was watching him now, but nonetheless, unable to look away, thinking, _Was dream-Noah right about this Noah?  Did he truly see me like he’d said?_   I really did need to talk to him about everything.

 _Tomorrow._ I inched closer to him, wrapping my arm over his stomach, fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt, whispering playfully in his ear, “I bet I could help get you to sleep better than Whitman.”

Noah’s fingers paused, faltering slightly on the tiny dots at my teasing.  A small, private smile tugged at the corner of his lips.  He closed the book, putting it to rest on the bedside table, before sliding closer under the covers to me, his warmth easily soothing my aching head.

We kissed, slowly, gently.  I pulled up his shirt to feel his chest while he pulled mine completely off, the shorts following soon after.  Wrapping my arms tighter around him I nuzzled his neck, always teasing I whispered, “So, what do you say?”

Noah turned slightly to wiggle his way under me, making room for me to fit comfortably between his lovely legs.  He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me again, whispering back with a smile against my lips, “Please?”

* * *

I lay beside him afterwards, legs and arms still tangled together, relaxed and floating in the afterglow, thinking about my dream again.

“David,” Noah asked in a sleepy, sated voice, stretching and yawning like a cat.

“Yeah, baby?”

“You’re so quiet now,” he said, playing with my hair wherever his fingers found it, “What are you thinking about?  Were you asleep,” he asked.

“No, I’m still awake.  It’s nothing.”  I kissed his forehead in a way I thought would be reassuring.  “Go to sleep, Noah.  It’s really late.”

His brow furrowed as he snuggled in closer to me, eyes staring blankly at my nose.  It unnerved some people that he did that, that he never wore sunglasses or never tried to hide his eyes.  It made them uncomfortable that he could guess – quite accurately, most of the time – where a person’s eyes were  _supposed_  to be, so he could ‘look’ at them directly, getting better at it the more he talked to that person.

It made me feel a bit disappointed that he’d never been able to do that with me.  Eyes fixed on my chest when we’d first met, now they seemed stuck on my chin or nose.  It made me feel ashamed in myself for being selfish like that, apart from everything else, for wanting him to see me as he saw others, or just to truly see me at all, for needing to feel that…  _connection_?  Maybe that was what this was all about after all; maybe that was what I was looking for.

His hand rose tentatively to my furrowed brow, drawing me out of my thoughts.  “David, what’s wrong?  Are you angry?  Tell me,” he asked, now very concerned. “Are you upset about earlier?”

“Of course not, love.” I caught his hand and kissed it, holding it my lips, using it draw out my courage. “It’s… it’s just that… Noah, I wish you could see, I really do, more than almost anything.  I know that sounds vain, but I do, I wish you could see me, especially in moments like this when we’re together, you know?  God, I wish you could see  _yourself_ , how beautiful you are, when you smile, when you blush, even when you’re angry.  I just… I…” I had to stop.

Noah closed his eyes self-consciously and drew back from me, as if every word cut him deeply.  “I’d thought as much… I’m sorry.”

I rubbed his arm gently to get him to come back.  “Noah, don’t do that, open your eyes for me?”

He frowned with a sigh, voice weary.  “No, I’m tired.  Good night.”

He tried to roll over, but I caught his shoulder.  “Noah, no, I’m sorry.  Come back, baby, don’t act like that.  Look at me, please?  I don’t mean to be mean, I love your eyes.”

“I’m sure you do,” his voice shook as he opened his eyes, unleashing the flood of tears that he’d been holding behind his eyelids. “But I  _hate_  them,” he whispered angrily.  “I want more than anything to see you, too.  I…” he turned away to wipe the tears off his face and didn’t turn back over.

We lay in silence for what felt like hours; Noah folded in on himself, me staring at his back.

Suddenly he turned towards me and sat up, kneeling over his legs.  He put his hands firmly on my chest, eyes fixed on that spot.  As his hands moved up my neck, his eyes followed, focused and determined to stay in sync.

Noah’s hands reached my chin. Fingers grazing my lips before he bent over me to kiss them.

He was nose to nose with me now, eyes closed still from the kiss, hands cupping my face.  Hesitantly, he rose slightly, slowly, carefully, before he opened his eyes.

My breath hitched.

His eyes met mine.  I felt my heart explode in my chest, as he stayed over me, shaggy hair going unnoticed as it hung down to tickle my face.  He seemingly watched me as intently as I watched him.  His breath tickled my lips as he whispered to me, “If I could see you with my eyes instead of my hands… I would never look at anything else in the world, but you, David.  But I don’t need that, neither do you.  I know it’s different for you, but I know that very close to the surface, my eyes don’t mean anything to you, because you love me for more than that.”

I was speechless.  Our eyes stayed locked on each other for what seemed like forever, before Noah’s self-consciousness got the best of him and shyly he looked away.

It was strange.  In spite of the link between our eyes being broken, the connection was still there, as it always had been, but I was just too… too  _blind_  to see that before.

I rose up to sit in front of him, holding his face in my hands now as our eyes locked once more, sending a chill up my spine.  “I’ll try not to be so dumb next time.  I  _do_  love you, Noah, I love  _everything_  about you.”

A smile lit up his face in the moonlight. “Finally.”


End file.
